Facing an Ancient God for a Year
Chapter 1293 - 1291: An Old Friend Has Not Yet Slept

Chapter 1293: Chapter 1291: An Old Friend Has Not Yet Slept

"So that’s how it is... How could I have overlooked it back then..."

A murmur echoed through the dim corridor.

Not the steadfast man gazing at the sky by the window earlier—this was already deep within the Western Cathedral of the Celestial Sphere Cult.

With a sharp chin and piercing eyes, the words belonged to a member far younger than one might expect.

Draped in the classic dark robe, the key distinction lay in the sparse golden embroidery on his shawl—a delicate design yet clearly incomplete.

Though possessing its own unique aesthetic, it was evidently simpler in comparison.

By a logical deduction, this seemed to signify that his path of cultivation was still shallow compared to Amila and the others.

As for the evidence supporting this inference—the figure seated upright and vigilant at the end of the corridor was clearly guarding the adjacent door.

This somewhat rudimentary duty appeared to be one more commonly assigned to novices.

Yet at this moment, the lines uttered by this young man seemed to imply a stroke of destiny, as though something profound had just struck him, granting him sudden insight.

But epiphanies rarely come so easily; moments later, his face contorted in pain, his expression turning vacant.

"Wait... Something seems wrong... Did I misinterpret it? No, no way... It must be right..."

His chaotic thoughts traversed a narrow edge, fully revealing the bewilderment of a novice.

Fu Qian stood hidden to the side, tactfully refraining from interrupting.

"It’s true... The enlightenment had already appeared, and I didn’t even realize it back then!"

The young man seemed genuinely committed to his realization, and within half a minute, his gaze lit up like starlight as he clenched his fists and stood abruptly.

"I need to go back right away—this instant..."

His tone grew resolute as his eyes darted to the nearby door.

The conflict between his current responsibilities and the fleeting realization tugged fiercely at his soul.

"Just for a little while... It’s night; who would be foolish enough to infiltrate the church now? If I just step away momentarily, even with the door left open, it likely won’t draw attention..."

Clearly the notion of opportunity had the upper hand.

After glancing around to confirm that the vicinity was completely empty, he gritted his teeth and made a decision.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up, pulled a uniquely shaped key from his pocket, and inserted it into the lock behind him.

With a soft click, the door opened. He hurried off, never glancing back.

"So full of energy!"

Watching the scene unfold, Fu Qian stepped out from behind a statue and praised softly.

Though hidden in a clever shadow, one could still spot him if paying close attention while passing by.

Unfortunately, overwhelmed by turbulent emotions, the young man had lost his cautious edge.

Fu Qian strode forward and pushed open the door with suave confidence.

What he had done moments earlier was simple—activating the Clear Dream Ring to let an imperceptible "voice" implant a reason of utmost urgency and justify the young man’s neglect of duty.

And as the outcome demonstrated, the youth indeed displayed great enthusiasm—his first thought was to recover the enlightenment he believed he had missed within the Stars Association.

Of course, theoretically speaking, Fu Qian didn’t need to go through such intricate tactics; he could’ve simply exploited the torment within the boy’s dreams and opened the door himself.

But that option lacked elegance—it aligned too closely with the infamous reputation of the Bloodline Clan.

Throughout his journey this far, Fu Qian had left behind a trail of unsuspecting victims with his refined approach.

And judging by the circumstances, this seemed to be the second-to-last.

...

Beyond the door lay yet another corridor. The main difference was that every part of it was constructed from night-like dark crystal stone.

Under the light, subtle starlike glimmers seemed to sparkle within its depths.

The same applied to the floor beneath his feet.

Walking through it felt as though one had entered a realm beyond the human world—an enigmatic domain of secrecy.

Fu Qian had reached the church’s innermost sanctum.

According to the first victim’s account, Brother Orintel had remained here, never once leaving after his return.

The claim was evidently true, as moments later Fu Qian felt a familiar presence.

His visit to this old friend had indeed gone smoothly.

...

His footsteps never faltered as Fu Qian strode boldly through the sect’s sanctum, stopping only when he reached a door.

Along the way, he encountered no resistance.

Just as the earlier youth had claimed, the sect seemed utterly convinced that no one would dare infiltrate this place at such an hour, hence their lax defenses.

Even the entrance to Orintel’s convalescence chamber—a key location—was left slightly ajar.

Without even opening the door, Fu Qian instinctively sensed that his old friend Orintel was seated alone by the window, motionless and doll-like.

No one cared for him nearby, nor did anyone stand guard.

When they had parted days prior, Fu Qian had promised to visit; there was no reason for Orintel to hide.

No matter how insane or incomprehensible it sounded, the sect couldn’t possibly remain entirely indifferent about it.

Logically speaking, Orintel should’ve been receiving diligent care, surrounded by armed guardians ready to eliminate any intruders at the first sign of danger—a normal scenario.

However, the stark neglect now made the reason apparent—days had passed since their appointment, and there was no justification for eternal vigilance.

Fu Qian’s delayed arrival had led to doubts about Orintel’s information.

Fu Qian sighed deeply and rapped on the door twice before pushing it open without waiting for a response.

Old friend awake still?

My apologies, Herbert is late.

...

The flickering of weak lamplight.

The chamber was not small by any means, yet only the space surrounding Brother Orintel’s silhouetted figure was illuminated by a meager oil lamp.

The faint light seemed powerless to disperse the darkness, casting only a limited glow around Orintel’s form.

The rest of the room looked as if swallowed by tangible shadows, even Fu Qian’s night vision unable to discern many details.

Heh...

The sound of the door squeaking open did not escape Orintel’s notice.

Yet he lacked the sharp decisiveness of his past self, only exhaling a heavy, aged sigh after Fu Qian was close behind him—still, he did not turn around.

"I knew you would come."

"Caught up in mundane affairs, this trust feels undeserved."

Fu Qian shook his head in sentiment, refraining from stepping closer. He chose to sit in a nearby chair instead.

"As expected..."

Only then did Orintel turn slightly to glance at him, showing indifferent surprise at Fu Qian’s newly assumed face.

"This visage still suits the name Herbert best."

"Quite flattering... It’s been far too long since I’ve revealed this face to anyone."

Fu Qian chuckled heartily, casting his gaze over Orintel.

"You look well."

"Are you sure?"

Orintel smiled oddly, slowly exposing the other half of his face.

A stark contrast emerged—bare bone, decayed flesh, blood-red eye—a harrowing juxtaposition against his intact half.

"Of course, you seem to have healed remarkably."

Fu Qian nodded steadily, his tone sincere.

The disfigurement paled in comparison; his remark referred to the effects of Dimensional Poison.

Even Divine Beings found this maddening, yet now there was no trace of it whatsoever.